


Only One Who Remembers

by dragonimp



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Past Edward Elric/Alfons Heinderich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 08:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/pseuds/dragonimp
Summary: Ed's been having a bad day. Roy takes him somewhere quiet for a drink and maybe a chance to open up.





	Only One Who Remembers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RoyEd Week 2018 on tumblr

Ed had been moody and snappish all day, setting everyone in the lab on edge. It made for a rather unpleasant work atmosphere. Somewhere around the third or fourth time he made an intern visibly jump Roy finally decided to call it a day and send the rest of the research team home early. They'd earned it. Ed he snagged with "You look like you could use a drink."

It had been less than a year since he and his brother had come back, "for good this time." They were still adjusting. No matter how much he tried to hide it with his usual grin and bravado, Roy was all too familiar with the signs of constantly being on guard. Never being able to settle. After everything the brothers had been through, some battle trauma like that was only to be expected. It had become familiar, really.

Today was clearly something else.

Ed was quiet during their short drive across town. Roy let him brood. It wasn't until he stopped the car that Ed looked over, eyeing the building and then giving him a dubious look.

"Don't worry, we're not here for the girls," Roy assured him. Then added, "I wouldn't do that to you."

Ed narrowed his eyes, but followed him out of the car without comment.

Roy took him around to the back entrance, then asked him to wait while he spoke with the madame. After an appraising glance or two she let him go with only a pat on the cheek and a promise of details later. Roy gratefully grabbed the booze and a couple glasses and slipped out of the bar before any of the girls spied him.

Ed gave him a long hard look before following him up the back stairs. "You're awfully friendly with the owner."

"Well I should be. Madame Christmas raised me."

Roy smirked to himself at the sudden stutter in Ed's footsteps.

"Wh—she's your—"

"—Foster mother," he supplied. "my paternal aunt." He glanced back as they passed the second floor landing. "It's not a very interesting story, I'm afraid. My parents died in a train crash when I was three. Aunt Chris was the only family I had."

" . . . Oh."

"There's really not much to tell."

Ed was quiet.

But just as they got to the third floor landing Roy heard him mutter, "Except for the fact that you grew up in a brothel."

"We never _lived_ in the brothel." Roy unlocked a plain wooden door and gestured to the small room beyond. "Living quarters are always the _top_ floor."

Ed glanced around at the sparse accommodations: a bed, a small desk with a single chair, and a short bookcase. "You sure? Doesn't look very _lived in_ to me."

"I don't _currently_ ," he clarified. "I moved out last year when I was confident my position was at least somewhat stable. But the room is always here for me." He shut the door, and gestured for Ed to make himself comfortable. "I thought the atmosphere of a bar might be a little much right now."

"What, afraid I'll make a scene? Embarrass you in public?"

"You've been making a scene all day. But I'm long past embarrassment."

"Hmph." Ed plopped himself down on the floor and leaned back against the bed. "How'd you get saddled with that job, anyway,? Isn't babysitting a bunch of researchers a bit beneath you, Colonel? Oh, I'm sorry— _Brigadier General_?"

Roy joined him on the floor. "Depends on your perspective. It beats freezing my extremities in an outpost no one cared about." He worked the cork out of the bottle and filled the glasses. "From the generals' point of view, giving me this position is a way they can 'reward' me for my actions during the battle over Central. Without doing anything 'risky' like putting me in the field, of course."

"Mph."

It had also had the unexpected benefit of putting him in the perfect position to offer a hand when two brilliant alchemists had all but literally dropped in out of the blue some 10 months ago.

Roy held out one of the drinks. "And you, my dear Edward, are avoiding the subject."

Ed took the glass and tossed back a third of it. "What subject?"

Roy gave him a look. "Do you mean me to believe that you nearly brought young Mr. Carter to tears today just for kicks?"

"A-ah." He downed another third. " . . . No. Guess I should apologize."

"To him and everyone else who had to put up with you."

"That include you, Mr. Lab Monitor?"

"I'm used to your bullshit."

Ed snorted and gulped down half of what was left.

Roy let it sit for another few seconds, sipping his own drink. He poked Ed's arm. "I'm used to your bullshit. So I know something is bothering you."

Ed downed the rest of his drink.

He let the silence sit again while Ed refilled his glass.

"It's . . . nothing," Ed finally said.

"It's clearly something."

Ed drank half the glass. "'S nothing. Now," he insisted. "Nothing. Here. Today's nothing."

Ah.

Roy put a hand on his arm as the glass came up again. "What day is this?"

"Thursday."

"For you."

Ed stared down at the hand, then very deliberately brought the drink up and took a swallow. "Does it matter?"

"You tell me."

"Doesn't matter here. Nothing . . . 's not here."

"Who did you lose?"

Ed jerked his head up.

Roy gave him a knowing smile.

"Just what d'you think you know, y'bastard—"

"Lash out and maybe you won't have to talk about it. And if you don't talk about it—you don't have to admit it's real." He gave him another smile. "I know that tactic well."

Ed signed and slumped down against the bed. "Yeah I bet you do."

"Get the other person on the defensive." He nodded. "A complementary tactic."

He growled out another sigh and gulped down more of the alcohol. "Why th'fuck d'you care anyway? Y'r just . . ."

Ed caught sight of Roy's face and dribbled off.

". . . Sorry. Sorry, I . . . sorry."

Roy sighed and sipped his drink, letting that one slide. "This person must have been someone important."

"N-not r . . . he wasn. . . ."

"He was to you. Clearly."

Ed dragged a hand over his face and downed the rest of his drink. "Might be the only one who remembers him. I might be the only one. Now."

"Who was he?"

"No one. No one important. Not to anyone else. Just another eng'neer working on the rockets. Just another guy who wanted to make his name. And never got to."

"Except with you."

"Only one who remembers him. Now. And I'm not even there."

Roy watched him lift the bottle and carefully line it up with the glass.

"He sent me home. That first time. Put me in the rocket and sent me home. An' they killed him for it."

"Oh, Ed . . . I'm so sorry."

Ed sniffed and wiped his nose on his glove. Roy took the bottle from him before it spilled. "Today's . . . today's the day we met. Sort of. Time gets a little funny, but . . . on the calendar. It's today." He sighed. "Wasn't—wasn't anything special. I needed a place to stay. Someone told me this guy Heinderich needed a roommate. 'N then . . . then . . . "

Roy stayed quiet, his own drink all but forgotten. Ed stared at his glass.

"It was easy . . . getting to know him. Like I'd already known him. Guess I did, in a way. But I also . . . didn't know him at all. In some ways he was . . . different. Very different. But it was easy." He closed his eyes and took a long drink. Tears beaded up beneath his lashes. "I . . . shit." He lowered the glass as the tears slipped down his cheeks. "Shit. I felt for him more—I felt more for him than I should have. I . . . shouldn't have. Shouldn't have felt that."

Roy winced. When Ed didn't elaborate, he ventured, "He . . . didn't reciprocate?""

Ed looked at him. "No—yes—I mean—he did. I think. I—know he did. He—he fucking got killed for me. But he—over there—"

A sob broke free. Ed sniffed and wiped his nose. Roy steadied the glass when it started to slosh.

"Never happened."

"What?"

"S'what he said. After—after we—we were celebrating. With the team. Some new design or something. Big breakthrough. Came home late and drunk and falling all over each other—dunno how we made it upstairs. But we did, and then we—we—fell. Together. On top of each other. And . . . and we . . . "

Roy slid the glass out of his hand and set it on the floor.

"We didn't . . . do much. Didn't do _that_. Fuckin' plastered and neither of us would know . . . but we were . . . both. It was both of us. Not just me kissing him. Both of us. Hands all over each other. And then . . . " He gulped and sniffed. Roy put a hand on his shoulder. "Next day. That morning. He said—'it never happened.' And—that was it. All he said about it. That was—it."

"I'm so sorry, Ed."

"Wasn't his fault. Wasn't. Over there, you just—you didn't. You—you just—didn't. It was—people would—you just didn't." He heaved a sigh. "It was fucking intense . . . way worse than back home. Here. Way worse than in Resembool, even."

"Do you mean that—it could be dangerous?"

Ed sniffed and nodded. More tears ran down his cheeks. "And he—I couldn't blame him for it. Couldn't even be mad. You just—you _didn't_ over there."

"It must have hurt all the same."

Ed sniffled, hiccuped.

"I dunno what 'm supposed to do. T' feel. He wasn't a—y'know. But he was—more than a friend. And he was—he wanted—more than anything, he wanted to be remembered. And he didn't get that. The one thing he wanted. I may be the only one." He reached for his glass, staring at it for a moment before tossing back what was left. Half of it ended up on his shirtfront. "Can't talk to Al. About this. I mean he—he knows. And he'd listen, But it's—it's weird for him. He tries to be okay with it but—it's weird. I can tell."

That took him aback.

"I mean—it was weird for me, too. At first. But—Al—Alphonse—wasn't Al. Al wasn't— _Alfons_ —wasn't _Al_."

It took Roy a moment to key in on the difference in pronunciation.

"But he looked like him. And in some ways—acted like him. Like—like an echo. A . . . distorted reflection. There were a lot . . . over there. Reflections. But he wasn't—he wasn't Al. But . . . it's just—Havin' his brother be . . . living with and . . . y'know . . . with someone who shared his face, it's just—it's weird for him."

Roy couldn't quite put together was Ed was saying. He filed it away for a later, more sober time. "I can see how that would be . . . awkward."

Ed crumpled into Roy's shoulder. "It's—it's shit. _I'm_ shit. I can't—I can't even be normal in who I want to fuck. Can't even be _queer_ -normal. I haveta—haveta make things all messy. Always make things messy."

"Ed . . . "

"Almost—almost didn't tell him. About me and Alfons. I mean . . . nothing really to tell, right? Nothing . . . nothing happened. But he knew. He could tell. And he—he tries to be okay with it. He wants to be okay with it."

Roy got an arm around him and just held him. "It's never easy to lose someone. Especially someone that important to you. Even— _especially_ when things are . . . complicated."

Ed sobbed into his shoulder.

"Thank you for sharing this with me. For sharing him."

"Only one who remembers him."

"Not so long as you share his memory with others."

For a long moment they just sat, Ed quietly sniffing into his shoulder.

Eventually, Roy shifted his arm and hauled them both to their feet. "But I think it's time to call it a night. Shall I take you home, or—"

Ed stumbled against him and pushed up, and sealed his mouth over his.

Well.

It was maybe not the sloppiest drunken kiss he'd ever had, but it was close.

The game of flirt-and-back-off they had been playing for the past few months had been steadily getting more intense, and Roy had been wondering if things between them were about to come to a head. But now was clearly not the time.

Roy gently eased him back, cupping his cheek to sooth the hurt that flashed across his face. "Ed—you're wasted. You're upset. Why don't we table this until you're a bit more sober."

Confusion joined the hurt, and Roy sighed.

"We'll pick this up again when you're not plastered. I promise."

Roy nudged him toward the bed, and Ed dropped like a stone. "Upon further consideration, I think it would be better if you slept here tonight. I'm not sure you would make it all the way to your apartment."

Ed grabbed the front of his uniform. He was hunched forward, his hair clinging to his tear-streaked face. "Just—I just—needa know. I just—in or out. In or out, Mustang. I didn't—I know I'm shit at this but I didn't—didn't come back here to—to pretend shit _didn't happen_. So it's—just—just _tell me_ so I—"

Roy leaned a knee on the bed and wrapped him in as tight of an embrace as physically possible. "Ed . . . oh, Ed." He sighed. "This is . . . not the best time. But—I need you to know. When I lost you, when none of us knew if you were alive or dead, and I didn't know if I would ever see you again—I stopped living." He took a deep breath, wiped his face. Ed sniffled into his chest. "Seeing you again, even for that brief moment over Central with all of _hell_ around us—you gave me life again. Do you understand that? I could bear losing you again because at least I knew you were _alive_ somewhere. And then to have you defy all odds and drop into my lap _again_ —"

He was close to rambling.

Roy laughed softly and leaned back, lifting one hand to wipe Ed's cheeks. "You deserve better than me gushing all over you while you're drunk off your ass and mourning your friend." Ed deserved the best.

Ed sniffled and wiped his nose. "Y'mean. . . ."

"I spent too much time missing you to ever want to deny a single moment with you." He winced at his own sappiness. "If you do remember this in the morning I'll be awaiting your ridicule." Roy kissed his hair, and nudged him back to flop onto the mattress. "Sleep. Hangover in the morning. We'll pick this up once you've got a clear head." Roy knelt down and worked off Ed's shoes.

"Al pushed for it."

"Hm?"

"For us to come back. Said—said he didn't want us to live somewhere . . . somewhere I had to—to hide."

Roy stood as Ed turned on to his side, rubbing his face against the blanket.

"Said he didn't want to be somewhere I would be in danger just—just for falling in love with someone. Just for—for being me."

Roy sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his hair back. "Your brother is pretty wonderful. But I don't need to tell you that."

Ed smiled at that. His first for the evening.

"Go to sleep. Tomorrow you can tell me all about your friend—this other Alfons. He sounds like someone pretty special."

"Tomorrow . . . " 

"Tomorrow we can talk about all sorts of things. I promise." Roy stood and wrestled the blanket out from under him, then shifted him onto the bed properly. "Tomorrow and sober."

"Lab's open tomorrow." 

"Something tells me you're not going to feel much like going into the lab. I'm sure the team will understand."

"Hm. . . ."

"Take a sick day. For once. Start the weekend early."

"Mmkay." Then, "Y'r just looking for an excuse . . . to weekend early. Aren't ya."

"Goodnight, Ed."

"G'night. Bastard Colonel."


End file.
